people black and girl power

after a long pause in the combat department we find you putting up your dukes again how do you feel about that

i'm glad i've still got the dukes for putting up as needed

but isn't the real test in the delivery

yes and thanks for your reminder

there's that way they press the backs of one another's gloves together and also touch heads as a sign of respect and good sportsmanship

even though it's not sport

you've often commented on 

and there's frequently not much respect involved at all but don't get me started look i'm still mourning the Death of Shab 

...

i think i see her i still step gingerly so as not to upset her and strangely often speak to her as well right baby? hi hi hi hi whatcha doin? lala lalala lalalalala

mmm mmhmm

so having to prep and gird once again for institutional thuckfuggery may feel harsh but it may also get my proteins and enzymes whatever at more optimum levels break through the fatigue of grief

do you mean LaLa

ya of course Shab was her prototype but he'll not die soon

or ever really

correct now there's one with the battle fatigue and the heavy weight of the ages weighing on his empty saddle and the backbone that cannot withstand more pressure

but if it breaks he'll still not die

correct

he wouldn't heal entirely from that but it doesn't matter because he just changes the rules from any point that suits his evolving if disfiguring corporeal state. He updates our expectations rather than depending doggedly on ancient texts for example

he accommodates his disability into a relic of the Divine Unknowing and increases follower hits

right but we're not just talking about courtesy accommodations he can change the foundational principals upon which he and all of us have always operated under and from there down through to instruction manuals and daily shiv novenas

one difficult deity can shake the entire pantheon 

they say this power does not necessarily spring from good judgment or measured action

in his case yes that's obvious they say it is a random power

they say it is a dangerous power

they say it is a hypnotic power

they say it is a power among powers

they say he is powerful with or without power

they say he owes no one an explanation of his powers

they say the word power is insufficiently representative of this level of power

they say it is a power leaked across boundaries by his ancestors

they say it is a power he somehow inherits from his descendants who do not yet live

they say that power herself envies his particularly intense force of power

they say that even a deity will starve on power alone but what more does he have besides power yet he does not starve

they say it is an unsettling power a power too great for a single source

they say it is a power that laughs at attempts to describe its power

they say it is a power that has compassion for individuals though may be fickle at the same rate as anyone

they say it is a power that is impossible to contain exploit manage distract destroy

they say it is a power greater than language itself which is already greater than explosives

they say it is a power to which the only option is surrender

they say it is a power so powerful as to be indifferent to obedience

they say it is a power that sensing flattery will turn away so furiously as to cause the sycophant to implode

they say it is a power for whom supernatural physical mystical judicial administrative people black and girl power are not mutually exclusive but rather just a few of the categories available to the holder of this all-encompassing power

Phyllis [trans.]

I'm Too Vulnerable

As a deity you probably recall the ways in which I praised you, the only overriding emotions to desire having been nervousness about getting your personal attention and my unworthiness. Now I suppose my silence signifies to you how I can't bring my maiden lips to engage in this filth, but also now please know how wrong that is.

When you wrote me back I went weak at the bottom of the spine and the vision was all google-eye baby. But even frankensteins have an embryonic stage when they don't yet know how to answer phones. What you are asking me to do is way more, even further I think than you could pay for on some more tasteful corners.

Now go. If you ever imagined loving me baby, go quietly nau. I'm too vulnerable from the last assoh who thought he could catch a quick taxi to double-queer crisis in tiki-land and live on, fully able to pitch optimism and catch flack. I'm too vulnerable to let you grab my most intimate giblet and treat it like a bar snack, woma.

Phyllis
"And I'm Sorry"

Jan and Her Dad, Jan Janzdaad

Daad,

Here are some of the questions I've been promising. When you say things like "I don't know how to be a daad," it makes me want to slap you very hard on the face. You think your existence is optional even while you live. Or is it mine that could clinch the diff? If I die before you it will add and not subtract from what you are. Now I'm telling you: grow up. You must answer me as best you can and not be silent out of pride of being proven wrong one day and marked as such in someone's registry.

1) What is our intelligence relative to others?
2) What are the primal and seconal reasons for our current economic standing?
3) Are we less or more worthy the more or less we fight for our stature?
4) Who did you trust and now who brings you sorrow.
5) How can you help me carry honor in our name?
6) Who did you love, and who loves you.
7) How am I weak and strong; please don't make me vomit your diplomacy.
8) Now clearly describe your standards for satisfaction with me; if all you can say is "to be happy," you shall be stricken hard in the face until it's forthcoming your honesty.

Night time find me dangled in volcano mouth by crane bill; moneylenders at the edges hanging ten, perched with lawyers, dressed health providers. I can't be civilized enough to pay even my krill, but then I recall the swarms at Denver Airport in brand new leisure apparel, total value not more than 50 peck per rack. If by lifestyle you mean down with sport and a fleece fetish, the free wing of horniness in a brine of marriage, the smell of beer suds and baby oil, a family who dance to TV commercials and nest in a church's love steeple, how important do you think life is?

9) Can I use your formulas to become rich without endangering mankind.
10) Where are the code books and lab support rolodexies?
11) Are we predisposed to resist more radiation in less time?
12) How are man's real expectations linked, if at all, to a Moral Compass?

blue-collar mad scientist

Yor laf in m' fangers gimme dread deepina bawlz,
Sorta whut you muss feel ravaging yr taunting food
Sep it's a kinda love too as I let care grow b'tween us.
In this hot room moisture prickles erywhere b'cause
you have evolved from a 2-bit preacher to a
national shivstar lottery queen from all I'm doing,
along with the searing truth 'n chance of electricity.

You think I'd risk my tam with Jan 'n the kiyuds
'f I dint know there was sum'm better t' provide
lak a day unner direck sunlight, stan on a real hill,
outta cement caves n' twilight of wan superstition?
I want yor skeletosis to tell a story longer than th' both of us.
You can raise bribes 'n forces, try 'n blend inta rustic corrals
while yr frens tie 'n kite you with ideals 'n booshia.

But because you have killt fr hunger, shiny coins, boredom,
or jus the sum of whut you were born being worth,
We cn bestow on you 'n honor greater than th' crusader kings
as you unfold these thinly fleshed and hideous wings
and a war helmet's gouging horn is organic to your face.
You may rise now awful Chama, and step in terrble knowingness!
Epistles loaded in yr chips will tip you into streaks of righteousness!


Wayne
Beta Invocation of Operational Systems

Mordon holy star

Spittle forming on his lips, Mike feverishly tries to force his sturdy plastic tubing neon-look Mordon holy star, with its loose and twisted cabling, into a cardboard box. ERUSOLCEROF FO GNIRFFO is spelled in backwards letters on the translucent paper sign taped to the picture window behind him. The points of the star are making every angle impossible. Finally he whips the star back out of the box, hitting himself on the forehead with the plug, drop kicks the box into the fireplace and storms down a long hall to the sliding glass back door and further down wide stone steps and onto a cement patio from which he discus-hurls the star into a low puddle of yellow foam at the bottom of the pool. As it flies, it resembles a spiky brain and spinal cord set free.

SIX MONTHS EARLIER:

Doorbell rings. Mike, wearing nothing but a denim shop apron and flip-flops, hears the chime from a backyard loudspeaker deep within a nest of scarlet bougainvillea. He drops the pool robot, whose tank treads are already turning eagerly, into murky water. He geishas up the stone steps and the long hall and to the front door, near which a glowing blue Mordon star can be detected from behind the living room sheers. The open door frame reveals a middle-aged couple smiling quizzically.

Hello. We noticed your star. Are... you a Mordon family, and if so, what are you doing for No-Shiv? Hmm, we are the leaders of the Mordon community in the chank, and I have a red box gathering every year at our home-- it's a Chalk tradition. That's Dick, and I'm Embhra.

Dick, Embhra; Mike. Well, I'm not a family, or-- we're not a traditional family. By the way I am one-sixteenth Mordon, and on the mother's side, but I am Shiv, brought up Shiv. Uhm, for many reasons, including the obvious need for diversity in Chalk Chank, I decided to show respect for the other part of my heritage this year. When I say we're not a traditional family, me and the folks that tend to live in this house, I mean there is no legal contract, and we are of mixed and questionable gender. I'd love to come!

Mordon holy star [the Mp3]

siberian rent discount

The worshipers have cleared out my home, split up the bitches. One of them, I hear, is fed on canned corned-beef hash and Hawaiian bread. If it's La-La, she could get bloat.

The pool torches, the Yukio Mishima collection, all gone. My pants suits, stethoscopes. Do you know why I'm not bothered by your pictographs in flames?

As long as they burn here, for me, they are good to no one else. Your hand on my breast was spit-blown with oxblood all around like a dissolving turkey star.

No rent to pay, no dishes to cull. I am on cement detail for a long career. The pulsing glow of my ankle bracelet is your good eye, the one that only looks this way.

I take my moles wherever I go. They were needled into me by heaven. All my attempts to extend into space from my torso, however far, have sprung me back to a single cell.

Hut of Saints

Clear in the middle of the preserve sits a Hut of Saints,
Where you can go and behold figures of the Holy rising
From a species of Xmas tree wheel projector or fire log
Simulation; There goes the Admonishing Spinster: look
At me, my hagg'rd creases, take a clue! Now th' Soulful
Maiden, in habit ascending like a rocket, so benevolent;

Therz th' Chama, Reptily, the only topless one, a clayish
likeness but for her breast; Oh Chamalamalalahamacha-
lamalachamalalahamala, the living one, where you roam
is our peril and our fate, chalalalamahamalala. N' behind,
a dog sillo'ette, waving up across the tied stick and hemp
string structure singing in a Squeakin' Hula with the wind.

Shab

Flakes are most likely to repent as the shiny copper fades.
It's easier to trace a downward spiral from a downward spiral.
Still some would seek healing every big top revival come to town.
But Illyn came in the cage of a wooden cart with wheels hacked nearly square.
This home was powered by a dog whose eyes glowed red, and wide enough to wear a saddle.

Flakes wandered up and formed a circle because it was something maybe they could eat.
It was grotesque, especially cuz its look was fresh, a bright moon gnarled and pocked.
Illyn appeared to have broken through the atmosphere and swol'n from the friction.
How many times have you rung Our Earth? Do you even know what part of you is where?
Your tears spit onto a face we can't relate to; now you need to share our soup?

Missy

AWKWARD MOMENTS FOR CHAMA AS A K FLEDGLING

First Service Requirement

Here, if you plug this receiver, you may get what you want. The second receiver is what you should plug, always. If you agree with the contract, you'll be guaranteed some of what you want. If the contract is productive, you'll also receive a medal.

Couldn't any animal do this?

We are not animals, missy.

Are we dumber? We need incentives?

Without a change of attitude, you will start to discover that you no longer feel physically comfortable in your work environment. Picture shoulder blades so large as to prevent operation of the filing cabinets. Spinal curvature. And the less you'll be able to accomplish. It's a vicious spiral. Your skeletal system requires room, just like a goldfish. Goldfish are animals.

You mean I won't make open release?

Chapel of Forgetting

I'm sorry for leaving butts and halves at the altar, Peg. To tell you the truth, it wasn't sloth. Even though my fingernails by nau do resemble... Anyway, it was avarice. I know I won't be able to infuse one day. Smokers have an instinct not to throw away the shiv. Maybe I'm out and I need a puff. I can come back here. A prolonged dose makes life easier, even though you're back and forth to the fire a lot. I've got another stash over at MPS. They've repaired the Likeness of Mthyuh's crack, and everyone wants to kiss it again.

Soon you will take or spare life according to your bowel structure, decide the fate of flakes, entire families. It will be your scars they bear from the boiling cauldrons, splashed from your plunking judgements. It will be their fires, your bellow, your dunk, your douse. Your mother may have pushed you around in a baby carriage in a fur coat with a butt hanging from her mouth, but you are Mthyuh's only protector. MPS can only exist because you are the enforcer.

Am I forgiven?

I ask you to leave everything.

Shiv is for flakes now.

Shiv is for flakes only. I ask you to fly.

Shiv is... I am free?

All you have is space. And you must find Ted and the chillun. Secure a hole in a high chank.

Live feeding can begin.

No. First we must hear your screeching wading at Fire Shore. The first flake you see will be safe vittle. When you land, you'll be able to walk again, but not without full spread.

K's fly with their legs spread eagle.

That's why they call 'em K's, missy.

One Windy Night

One windy night, a kitty appeared at the mouth of the office. He was four colors, all separated out to indicate the hind sections, flanks, forearms. To the Chama, he manifested as an Ambulatory Meat Diagram. For a blurry moment she turned into Shab, the red-eyed dog who is mad and goes with an empty saddle. Her salient features returned in time to knock over a combination tie rack and shoe tree more than 50 feet away with a flick of her elbow, trapping the vittle. Chama gave into pecking furry cat liver out from between the chrome prongs and rubber-tipped clamps.

Irretractable Post-Feminist Crisis

Total conversion or shutdown.
Shivica ficha 1: Chamatilly, frmrly "Reptily".
Comments: Girl's gone too far. Recommend full brain return, winged flight, excretory updates.

Amicus posts: 3

ap1: Chama is the Honey of Life. Our community would suffer her absence more than the brief monthly assaults. Our K response team is empathic and humanish.
Supervisor, All-Chank
Cement Employees Collective

ap2: Oh, Chamalachamalamachama. Chalamachamamama. We wail in anticipation of your claws.
Ultimate Worship Group
Sports n' Sex Crimes Bugle, Sponsor

ap3: She might as well let it all hang out. She is enduring an irretractable post-feminist crisis. I have submitted a volunteer card for embedded feed monitoring and preliminary intimate grooming license. She will recognize me as a specialist and view historic spatting as too easy for vengeance. She'll eat me last.
Phyllis

Worship Section

It says here that on Cabaret Night the Chama was serving cocktails to a crowd of tourists in a Carol Channing wig and wacky makeup. When she looked into one of em's eyes and saw a hatchet murder. Now she's coming out as having seen her own ghost through psychic time travel. Sports N' Sex Crimes Bugle is expanding with a section for worshipers. Tom?

Tom stepped out of the bathroom like a robot, glowing in purple light. He seemed to have a bumping soundtrack. Sylvia stood and let the paper sag and watched him stroke the spines on the back of his neck.

Wayne Come A'Knockin

All's I can say is I was on a sabbatical from aerospace right when TRW had community days where you could stroll through their newest foam in your bellbottoms. It was a Billy Graham mission, and I'd had an unsettling interaction with a disbeliever at breakfast just about when I was ready to try and witness. So I took a golf day, and next thing, I am delivering a slimy percussive being onto a fetid pagan tuskless trunk floor. While my family sloshed in clippered jungle growth. I am the prayer of prayers, and they just got silly after I responded to Sylvia's first birth knellz without getting done. I did not feel it it my ears, as one would an ambulance or a robin. This was a primal alarm in my pelvis perhaps significant to the kind of society we had settled into on that plane. Jan had said she could see the evil rising in waves even from the runway, but I told her and truly hoped it was sublimated libido, even beginning to drum on my plastic foldout tray.

"Hello? May I help here?"

Monster Poinsettia

In this forest we give fear, alms to the Begging Rajah, who straddles a red-eyed dog named Shab. M' lord, your palms once carried, gave Vajras as gifts, cupped milk curd and batteries. Once, riding home to the Moist Pinkish Cave From a tour of generosities, which were your Fetish, you came upon a poinsettia as high as The Fordamal Chank, at Chukka. Its star-shape Mouths bobbed in thickets of plaited wondry; It's hunger smelt rough and good and buttry; But as your fingers slid thru the crinkled folds In bliss, there was a neuro-chemical stab, Your eyes rolled, and the Monster Poinsettia's Incisors chopped your hands off at the wrists.

Door Prize: It Hits you on the Ass

Corporation: OK well I'm the great big corporation. Think I can do what I want? Well no. I'm just a hallucination: you are me. The individual. Without your support, I'm nothing. Never heard of a Thousand Holes that are Tight? It's everyone pulling together to co-sign my Right to Plow.

Individual: Ooo lookie me I'ma little diddly noo-body who can't even pee without buying a contraption from some kinda capitalist. You'll arrest me if I just let it flow. You say I'm gay if I don't have a mug with your pig logo.

Hoolie drinks a lot of wheat juice and tries to explain getting fired to what's left of the disciples.

We must Hide our Joy

There were survivor barbecues while some of the neighbors walked in thirsty death circles. There'd been no news in weeks that anyone could get. That funny couple the chick with the spindly head and the albino, they showed up around then. She was telling him what to do but also worshiped him with fruits and song. He had a red afro.


Tri-Tip Toaster Oven Cookout

bottle of chili sauce
1 lb meat chunks
Worcestershire 1T
many bay leaves, whole
child's fist full of cloves
head of garlic: teeth are cut free but unpeeled
extra-thick foil

at least 1 hr @ 300
better yet, crok-pot it with a whole pork roast and more of everything, 4hrs high
squish the garlic teeth onto the roll before the meat
do not use the bay leaves out of one of those xmas laurel wreathes
mush the roast into the sauce with a potato masher whatever right there in the crock leaving a variety of chunk sizes for slopping into fresh bread. Makes you want zin on ice.

Awe of Priapus

Chama looked over at Ilyn. Do you see whut I see. They had stumbled upon a shivchapel in the face of the chank.

Their vision started to benefit from the clarity of Strong Hormonal Bathing. The first moment of beholding a phallus will always make the humidity rise to what's necessary for mucous.

Chama imagined herself as the Veined God, and how it turns out to be Her Chrysalis.

Ilyn felt exhausted just thinking about the amount of blood that would be required to attain that level of determinacy.

They stood and stroked the rippling folds, stretching, but not quite able to reach its crown. "We will see Luck or Scorn; it's the paradox of this deity," The Chama intuited.

Ilyn wept.

Voodoo is The Law

It's very nice to hear your voice again,
and I'm grateful to you for all your help.

I wonder if our love is covered by
corporment or mercenary int'rests.

I save all my masculine energy
for transfer to hot skull shrinks like yourself.

As in one who flirts only with barkeeps,
wanting spent has a safety handicap.

Ref'rence to lucre can cheapen your trade;
I feel so sad to see it end this way.

Lady McBirth

Hot neighbors' sons with shorn hair empty onto
the street and crawl up the block at night, spray paint
the garage. Reptily mom call police. Neigh-
bors complain, "Therz alwayz trubble over thayr."

She knew it was not at the law that they jeered,
but rather marked her as sodomy doer.
And their votes were against sodomy, not her.

She thought of the way shit stink stays in your skin
and wondered whether that was yet another
shame for mothers.

Every Trade Imaginable

The Second Home was also away from crowds but for the Pair of Masters, the only neighbors, who could see you still Locked and Parked, not gone, on their Way to Worship and from. They may step past in Black, point an umbrella or their Book, and voice concerns. The male one had the Last Say, but She Needed to talk. He seemed both Softened and Empowered by her Gentle Excretions.

The third home posed too easy an Escape for Dependents. They don't think right. In spite of hangdeliers and dripping oil statue lamps, they take you for granted as keeper and wander. The Handy Gentleman showing it off was a little hostile, yet So Hot. You could have reached into His Hat for feelings of Every Trade Imaginable.

Weirdo Healer Prees

In a rat hole for aliens, you see a zeal for life:

lust for children and in cooking.
Tenants, slaves pushed their grime

against caves of linoleum and painted wood
and pipe and pane and wrought iron caging;

they come up to him in church, tap at the rai
-ments, a downtown suit-parlor knock off,

chequered from a couple decades down;
sandy hairs moderate his rostrum.

A sinner with thick glasses, loose pantz,
sprinkle on yor daughter, clean her path,

watch yor blighted son who no one look at.
Weirdo healer prees, closer than a fren.